


The Case of the Missing Bluejeans

by veritashopian



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Attempted Murder, Bureau of Balance - Freeform, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mild Fantasy Violence, Mystery, Neverwinter - Freeform, What-If, goldcliff, gross misuse of dnd mechanics and lore, if lucretia voidfished barry bluejeans, spoilers for all of balance, takes place between murder on the rockport limited and the end of petals to the metal, voidfish, yibyiru the rancid lady of black bile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritashopian/pseuds/veritashopian
Summary: Standing on his doorstep is a human man Angus doesn’t recognize. He has short grey-brown hair and a round, anxious looking face. His glasses are foggy in the chill of the night and he’s glancing around nervously. From what Angus can see, he doesn’t have a bag or anything with him. All he has are the clothes on his back; a white cotton shirt, a studded leather belt, and a sturdy pair of denim pants.“Hello sir,” Angus says through the door. “How can I help you?”The man jumps and waves awkwardly. “Uh, hi. I uh, I’m looking for a mister Angus McDonald. The folks at the station told me I’d find him here.”Angus perks up and jumps down from his stool, unlatching the door. If this stranger is asking for him by name, that can only mean one thing.Angus throws the door open with a wide grin. “Yes sir, that’s me. I’m Angus McDonald, and I’m guessing that you have a case for me.”The man blinks down at Angus and says, “Fuck.”





	1. Prologue: The Forgotten

****High above Faerun, two moons hover in the sky. The people planetside think that this makes perfect sense.

Madam Director of the Bureau of Balance sits in her office with her face in her hands. Another glassing, another addition to the highest death count of any war imaginable. This is their fault, _her_ fault, and even after all of her struggles she wasn’t able to keep all of them safe.

A knock sounds at her door and she straightens, wipes her eyes before giving permission to enter. It’s Davenport, carrying a small stack of mission reports. “Davenport?” he asks, concerned.

The Director smiles sadly and shakes her head. “No, don’t worry about me, dear friend. You know the weight of lives lost can’t hurt me more than it already has.”

The gnome nods grimly and sets the reports on her desk. He hesitates, then pats her hand twice before departing. “Davenport,” he reminds her. “Davenport Davenport.”

Her eyes sting once again, but she doesn’t let them fall until he closes the door behind him, leaving her alone once again. She needs something, anything to distract herself, so she pulls the first report from the top of the stack and starts reading.

Merle’s report of the Phandalin glassing is… not entirely informative. Halfway through it just turns into a blustering tirade about his ‘racist-ass moron of a cousin’ and ‘that damn ungrateful brat with the bow’ but it’s still clear that he’s grieving. There’s a paragraph describing how Gundren fought the thrall that has several spots of runny ink.

She puts the report aside, takes the next one.

If she expected there to be anything humorous in Magnus’s report then she was sorely mistaken. Magnus gives a terribly detailed account of the tragedies he witnessed, as well as all of the risks and dangers the five- _four_ of them faced before returning alive. There are even notes about possible escape routes they could have taken, had it come to that. She realizes with an immense amount of guilt that this is very similar to the devastation of Raven’s Roost, and all but throws the pages away from her.

“Come on, Taako,” she whispers, frantically flipping through the pages of his loopy writing. But there’s nothing there, no light for her to cling to. He resisted the thrall of the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, felt no recognition or want for it. The only thing of any note, to him at least, is that he’s very upset at the lack of loot found on this adventure. He did find a ‘cool fuckin’ umbrella’ but the skeleton holding it- the _skeleton, what in the world?-_ turned to dust the moment they took it. No one else came back from the cave with them.

There’s a footnote in each report, so uniform that it had to have been planned. _Known dead: Gundren Rockseeker and Barry J. Bluejeans. Unknown dead: everyone else._

Two friends found and gone, apparently forever. Bones turned to ash with not even a ghost left behind. The Director doesn’t know how it’s possible, but here she is. Maybe… maybe the presence she’d felt wasn’t who she’d feared it was- _hoped_ it was.

She can’t bury them. There aren’t any remains- not anymore. She traces her finger over the name and clenches her jaw, standing abruptly to rap her staff on the floor. Davenport comes running back in, along with a handful of guards. The guard closest to her salutes while the others stand at attention. “Yes, Madam Director?”

Taking a deep breath, the Director speaks with a steady tone. “Please send out a memo to all members of the organization. It is unprecedented to do this for civilians, but I feel it is appropriate considering their efforts. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to give the Rites of Remembrance to Gundren Rockseeker and- and Barry Bluejeans.”

* * *

_He’s in a cave. There’s rock above and around and below him, and a faint light filtering in from one direction. He stumbles out of the strange goo he was sleeping in and crawls, naked, across the stone floor until his hand slaps something. It skitters away and when he reaches out his hand again he finds a pair of glasses. When he puts them on, the world around him clears up and he blinks goop out of his eyes to try and get his bearings._

_Well, it’s a cave. He’s already established that much, and that’s the only thing he sees that makes any sense. Everything else is just weird. The ground around his feet is littered with broken glass, and when he looks at the tank he fell out of he sees a chink in the top of it. There’s a small bit of glass in his hand and another shard in his knee, so he pulls them out and tosses them at the tank. They sink in the green goop with twin plops._

_Against the wall is a wooden table covered in maps, and a trunk. That at least looks familiar, so he pushes himself up to his feet and wobbles toward it. He finds a towel, some personal articles, and a change of clothes._

_“Thank god,” he says when he sees a good, sturdy pair of jeans. “I’m not in hell just yet.”_

_He quickly towels himself off and starts to get dressed, mind whirling to try and figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t recognize the cave or anything in it except his clothes. The last thing he remembers is-_

_He pauses with his hands on the button of his jeans. What is the last thing he remembers? He doesn’t know. He remembers his mom, he remembers that he had a dad. But where does she live? What does she do for a living? Is she even alive? What was her name, again?_

_… what is_ **_his_ ** _name?_

_That thought knocks the air out of his lungs and sends him back to his hands and knees, his pulse pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know his name!_

_He runs out of the cave in his bare feet, his soles slapping across the dry, rocky earth. The sun is setting behind the mountains and-_

_He’s afraid of the dark. That’s something he remembers. He stops running and stands by the mouth of the cave, breathing hard. It will be pitch black outside within the hour and he has no clue where he is. The smart thing to do would be to stay put and build a fire if he can._

_Apparently, he’s a smart man. Even so, it’s an hour after he starts his campfire when he gives up on trying to read the countless sheets of parchment stacked on the table. Every page he looks at gives him a headache, must be some sort of code he doesn’t know. But the maps are useful, if not confusing. There are x’s and circles everywhere and he doesn’t know what they mean, but the sheer number of crossed out locations fills him with an unsourced dread._

_He figures out that he’s near a place called Wave Echo Cave, a couple days ride from a city with its name smudged out. He ignores that one and looks instead to the next closest city; Rockport is a big enough town, and it’s got a direct train line through the mountains that can take him to Neverwinter, the biggest place on the map. It’s still over a week by wagon, maybe two on foot, from the cave to Rockport._

_“Hey,” he says out loud, and then stops. Who did he think was there to ask an opinion on what to do next? There’s no one else in the cave, so who was he talking to? That feels wrong to think. He shouldn’t be alone here, there’s someone who’s supposed to be there with him. But no matter how much he tries, he can’t figure out who that is._

_He stares into his fire for a long time that night, and nothing comes to him. A noise like running water comes and goes, and the fact that he can't find the source of it unnerves him. Fitfully, he sleeps._

_In the morning he sets out as soon as the sun rises. He hitches a ride toward Rockport on a flood of horse and ox drawn wagons, all heading toward the big cities for midsummer._

_He meets one wagon going against the flow of traffic, a cider merchant and his family. He listens to their worries about someone who went to a city they can’t remember the name of and disappeared when the town went up in flames. They don’t know if they’re looking for a person or a corpse, but they have to find something. They have to find something just to prove that this person existed in the first place._

_“It’s the darndest thing,” the kindly patriarch says over the campfire that night. “We don’t know her name or what she looks like, but we sure do know that we miss her.”_

_He understands that feeling. “What are you going to do if you can't find her?”_

_“Keep going. Circle back to where these revelers are all headed. Maybe head out to Neverwinter and find that famous detective.”_

_“...What detective?”_

_He’s handed a small blue card with a name on it. And just like that, he’s got a plan._


	2. Chapter 1: The Seeker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The jeans by any other name are just as Blue

We see Rockport, a city recently freed from the terror of the gruesome murderer wandering the streets. The people are calm now, and happy. Tom Bodettes of all ages and creeds are once again safe. 

We pan up and across the Teeth, their jagged peaks raising against the skyline and the setting sun as a shiny new train chugs along toward the grand city of Neverwinter. As the locomotive emerges from the rocky tunnel, these passengers feel happy and secure, all except for one.

A man sits alone in the passenger car of this train, staring out the window. It had taken him over three months of taking odd jobs in Rockport to save up enough for this one way ticket to the land’s biggest city. If this ends up being a bust, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. 

He looks down at the crumpled business card in his hand, the card with only a smudged out name and no more information at all. Maybe it’s that fact that convinced him to take this shot in the dark; that’s something he has in common with detective Angus McDonald.

We pan up once again and we see this boy now, sitting in a comfortable chair in a cozy library. The fire sits low in the hearth, dwindling from the roaring flame it started as when Angus sat down to work that afternoon.

It’s been a little over four months since the great train murder mystery, and Angus is still elbow deep in the paperwork needed to finish his report to the authorities. There are so many formalities he has to deal with, and all of that on top of trying to help manage his grandpa’s estate. It’s pretty difficult to process legal documents with no names on them, but he’s trying.

Angus has burned the midnight oil for several weeks now, but he’s got to keep working. It’s all that’s keeping him from feeling the full pain of his grandpa’s death. This house feels so big for such a little boy.

He keeps writing until the sun has long since set, and he’s just about to call it a night when he hears something- a loud, firm knock at the front door of the house.

Angus looks up, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He shouldn’t have any visitors from the Neverwinter militia this late at night, and while his grandpa’s neighbors are friendly they haven’t made a habit of coming over after dark.

The boy detective slides out of his desk chair and grabs his hand crossbow on his way out of the library. Climbing onto the step stool by the door, he looks out through the peephole.

Standing on his doorstep is a human man Angus doesn’t recognize. He has short grey-brown hair and a round, anxious looking face. His glasses are foggy in the chill of the night and he’s glancing around nervously. From what Angus can see, he doesn’t have a bag or anything with him. All he has are the clothes on his back; a white cotton shirt, a studded leather belt, and a sturdy pair of denim pants.

“Hello sir,” Angus says through the door. “How can I help you?”

The man jumps and waves awkwardly. “Uh, hi. I uh, I’m looking for a mister Angus McDonald. The folks at the station told me I’d find him here.”

Angus perks up and jumps down from his stool, unlatching the door. If this stranger is asking for him by name, that can only mean one thing. 

Angus throws the door open with a wide grin. “Yes sir, that’s me. I’m Angus McDonald, and I’m guessing that you have a case for me.”

The man blinks down at Angus and says, “Fuck.”

“Excuse me?” Angus asks, affronted. That was hardly a polite greeting.

“You’re- no, this can’t be right.” The man fumbles in the pocket of his denim pants and Angus tenses for a moment and tightens a hand around his crossbow, but the man only pulls out a card and pushes it in Angus’s face. “This is your business card?  _ You’re  _ the world’s greatest detective who solved the murder on the Rockport Limited? You’re a damn  _ toddler! _ ”

Angus straightens up and puffs out his chest. “Sir, I will have you know I am ten years old. I am not a toddler and I  _ did  _ help solve that case. And I’m not trying to brag but I’d even say I solved  _ most  _ of that case!”

The man is still mumbling to himself, looking at the card and then Angus and then back to the card. He abruptly rips the card in half and throws it down before sitting down hard on the stoop, his face in his hands. “This was the only lead I had,” he sniffs. “I spent everything I had to get here, all for nothing. All for  _ nothing! _ ”

The man… the man is crying. Not only crying, but  _ weeping. _ Angus puts down his bow and moves to sit next to the man. He offers him a handkerchief from his pocket and the man takes it after a second to press it over his face.

“Listen,” Angus says softly. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I don’t look like much. But you didn’t come here for nothing. I don’t know what it is you need, but it’s clearly important to you. How about you come inside and have some tea with me, and we’ll talk. Does that sound good?”

The man subdues his sobs down to hiccups and sniffles. “Fuck it,” he says. “Ain’t got nothing better to do.”

Angus ushers the man inside, quickly taking note of any reaction from the charms he put up around the doorway. None of them detect any malicious intent or deception, so he probably doesn’t have to worry right away. He leads the way to the kitchen and quickly puts the kettle on to boil, although he has to move some quills and books from the counter to do it.

His time has been split between the kitchen and the library for the past few weeks because all he’s done is work on his case reports and write back and forth with his dad, who is busy back home with his work. Angus admits to himself that he hasn’t been keeping the house as spotless as he’d like, but at least his dishes are clean. He pulls two cups and saucers down from the cabinet and in a few minutes the two of them are sitting across from each other on comfortable chairs in the library and sipping at his grandpa’s favorite herbal tea. 

Angus loads his with sugar and honey, but the stranger drinks his straight. “This is good,” the man mutters. “Thanks.”

Angus smiles. “You’re welcome. Help yourself to as much as you want, mister. And then you can tell me what it is you need my help with.”

The man sits back in his chair and sighs, running a hand over his face. He looks as tired as Angus feels, but not in the manner of someone who’s done some good work. He looks beaten down and downtrodden in a way Angus hasn’t seen on anyone else in the world.

“I was really hoping you could tell me that,” the man sighs. “There’s something wrong, and a lot of things I’m missing, and I don’t know what’s going on. But I guess the biggest problem is that I don’t know my name.” 

Angus immediately sets his tea down and reaches blindly for his notebook. They’re getting down to business now. “What else are you having trouble remembering?”

The man grimaces. “Hah. I don’t think you have the time, honestly.”

“Try me,” Angus says. He finds his quill and turns to a clean page, looking up expectantly. The man gives a mirthless chuckle and starts to talk. An hour later, Angus has filled three pages of his notebook and learned next to nothing.

Angus is puzzled. Or no, not puzzled. He’s been puzzled before many times, and he knows what that feels like. This is different somehow, more solid than bewilderment and more unyielding than confusion. 

Angus McDonald, the world’s greatest detective, realizes that he is  _ stumped.  _

“I’m sorry sir,” he says slowly. “Can we run through that again?”

The human man sitting on the sofa across from him nods, hunching in on himself. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but I swear I’m telling you everything I know. Though I guess it ain’t much to go on, huh?”

Angus makes a soft noise of agreement as he reads through what he’s written in his notebook. It’s… almost nothing, actually. “So you woke up several months ago in a place you’ve never seen before, and you just  _ feel  _ like someone important to you has gone missing? But you don’t know who they are and you don’t know who  _ you  _ are? Your mind is just… blank?”

Raising a hand, the man taps his temple. “The lines are there, I just can’t color ‘em in. Look, kid- Angus,” he corrects when Angus frowns. “I can’t offer you much. Right now I can’t offer you anything. But I have to find this person. I have to figure out who I am, and I think you’re the one to help me do it. So what d'ya say?”

Angus takes a moment to think about it. Here he is, hosting a complete stranger who doesn't even have a name. He has no identification, no belongings, and very few memories of his past, but he’s not a completely blank slate. He speaks Common and even a little bit of Elvish, although he can’t remember where he learned it. He knows basic facts about life and death and the world around him, but there’s not a thing he knows about himself or the person he’s looking for.

It’s an impossible mystery. But Angus has faced those before, and he’s not afraid to face another one.

“Alright sir,” he says, offering his hand to shake. “Please feel free to spend the night here and we’ll start investigating first thing in the morning. We’ll crack this, don’t you worry.”

The man’s face breaks into a relieved grin and he shakes Angus’s hand warmly. “Thank you so much, Angus. You don’t know how much this means to me.” He pauses for a second and laughs, a wooden and frightened sound. “Actually, neither do I. So at least we’re on the same page.”

Angus nods. “Hopefully we can find that out together.”

It’s hard to talk to someone without a name, so the first thing Angus does when he wakes up is try and find one for his houseguest.

“What have people called you for the past few months, if you don’t have a name?” He asks the question over coffee- or, in his case, some very strong cocoa. 

“Mostly just ‘hey you,’” the man answers wryly. His voice is rough with sleep, which is probably made worse from sleeping on the library couch last night. “You can call me whatever you want, I guess. I’ve tried out different names and none of them really stick.”

Angus ponders the issue. “You know, my grandpa didn’t know his name either.”

The man perks up. “That so?”

“Yeah, nobody knew it. They say the memory of his name died long before I was born.”

“Huh,” the man says. “That’s an awfully big coincidence. What did you call him, then?”

“Grandpa,” Angus replies. Obviously.

The man takes another sip of his coffee- again without cream or sugar- and grimaces. “Please don’t ever call me grandpa.”

“Never, sir.” Angus looks the stranger up and down, trying to find some sort of clue. “Are those the same clothes you found when you woke up?”

The man puts down his mug and gestures to himself. “Well, the shirt’s new. My old one got ruined on the road. But yeah, these are my jeans. They were the only things in the cave I knew were mine, aside from my glasses. Why?” Another sip of coffee.

“I’ve never seen pants like those before,” Angus explains. “So they might be a clue to your identity. Also… I was wondering if maybe you were the type of person to write your name inside of your clothes. My dad used to sew my name inside of my jackets until I told him it would interfere with my work. Undercover investigations, you understand.”

The man snorts into his mug, drawing a mild glare from Angus. “Yeah, of course. Can’t get in the way of that.”

“If I loan you some of my grandpa’s clothes to wear, we could investigate your ‘jeans’ a little more closely,” Angus suggests. “Even if there’s no name, there might be a maker’s label. We could track down whoever made them and see if they know anything about you or your missing person.”

The man shakes his head not in refusal, but in wonder. “There’s an idea. Damn, I never would have thought about that. Alright, let’s do it.”

A few minutes later, the man is wearing a pair of corduroy slacks and looking over Angus’s shoulder. He lays the jeans out on the kitchen counter and pulls out a small magnifying glass to see if he can find any clues. 

There’s no name sewn into the waistband, but Angus hadn’t really been banking on that anyway. He does find a maker’s label with an odd series of symbols on it, and steps aside to let the man look through the glass. “Does this look familiar to you at all?”

The answer comes quickly, almost automatic. “Well yeah, that’s-“ And he stops, steps back, and holds his head. His eyes are screwed shut and he grunts with effort. “God, I don’t- it’s there but-“

“It’s okay! Don’t strain yourself,” Angus says quickly. “I can do some research on the jeans later. It was worth a try, even if we still don’t have a name for you.”

The man adjusts his glasses and controls his breathing. “About that,” he says reluctantly. “There was this one nickname I picked up in Rockport.”

“Oh? Well why didn’t you say so?”

“Well it wasn’t the best, and I pretty much only heard it when I really fucked up, but you weren’t the first person to notice the threads. The guys in the railyard called me Blue.”

“Mr. Blue,” Angus repeats, trying it out. 

“It’s a little on the nose and I didn’t much like having it shouted at me, but… it feels more right when you say it like that.”

Angus tilts his head. “Like what, sir?”

The man- Blue- smiles softly. “Like it’s a real name. I like that, like it a lot.”

“Alright then, Mr. Blue it is!” Angus retrieves his notes from the night before and flips through them. “Okay, now I know you don’t have a lot to go on so we’re going to have to get going. If we hurry and arrange the right transportation, we can make it to Wave Echo Cave in a week’s time.”

Blue raises one eyebrow. “You’re gonna go all the way out there with me? I don’t know what we’ll find- heck, I don’t even know if I can find the damn place again.” 

“That’s just the final stop. We’re going to have to pass through a few major cities on the way and collect data.” Angus hops down from his chair and jogs back into the library, where he keeps his case files. He comes back and shows Blue a stack of telegrams. Each one is a missing person report, and each one has a very particular oddity.

“These are all…” Blue rifles through them again just to make sure. “These are  _ thirty  _ cases just like mine. They can’t remember who they were looking for. When did these come in?”

“They’ve been coming in steadily over the past year or so. I tried following up on a few of them, but never found anything. And I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but these cases aren’t  _ exactly  _ like yours.” Angus files the papers away and clasps his hands together on the table, leaning forward. “Not a single one of these claims came from someone who was also suffering from intense amnesia. You, Mr. Blue, are an anomaly.”

Blue scoffs. “Tell me about it. Okay, so you want to, what? Try and pick up on some clues on the way to where I woke up? Ask around and talk to folks?” 

“That’s the plan. And in the meantime, I’ll keep investigating your past. Are you ready for this?”

“Sure am. Let’s do it.”

Blue says he’s fine to wait downstairs, so Angus runs upstairs to pack. He takes a minute to think through what he absolutely needs to take, like some clothes and his coin purse. He packs those into a messenger bag and makes sure to grab a coat for Blue as well. It was one of his grandpa’s, and it’s kind of old but it’s super warm and has lots of inside pockets. He’s sure grandpa wouldn’t mind him loaning it to Blue.

As he turns to leave the room he’d claimed as his own, his hand hovers briefly over his collection of concealable weapons. Angus knows to keep the small crossbow for himself, but what about Blue?

He knows that he’s already trusting this man way more than he should, given the circumstances. He may be the world’s greatest detective, but he’s still a little boy. His dad probably would have a few things to say about traveling across the land with an amnesiac he met yesterday. It could be really, really dangerous in so many ways even Angus can’t count them.

Angus grabs an ornate dagger with a leather sheath and goes downstairs.

They reconvene in the kitchen. Blue has washed his face and changed back into his own pants, and he’s ready to go. He raises an eyebrow at the knife Angus hands him along with the coat, but straps it to his belt without comment. “Okay,” Blue says, softly enough that Angus knows he doesn’t have to answer. “Okay. Time to finally get some answers.”


	3. Chapter 2: The Venal One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus just can’t catch a break on these trains.

Angus buys them two one-way tickets on the two-thirty Rockport Very Limited. He tries not to feel bad about it- after all, it took Blue a long time just to get money for one ticket- but Blue doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to that. ( _ Not concerned about wealth.)  _ He stares silently at each person they pass in the station, following along with his hand on the strap of Angus’s bag. 

“Our thanks for traveling with us on this beautiful day. I am Arthur, your attendant. If you have not brought any weapons on board, I will take your tickets please, gentlemen,” the new Rockport Very Limited attendant says in his fancy voice. He pronounces his name like ‘Ar-toor,’ but his name tag reads Arthur.

Blue doesn’t seem to hear him at all, so Angus quietly takes the ticket from his hand and gives them both to the attendant. 

After inspecting and punching the tickets, Arthur nods curtly. “Since the two of you have both travelled with us before, I would recommend forgoing our usual tour of the train,” he drones. “Light refreshments are currently being served in the dining car, and tea will be offered shortly after departure.”

Blue looks at Arthur, squinting. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Quite recently sir,” Arthur says with a poorly concealed eye roll and a disdainful glare at Blue and his outturned pockets. “I see you are traveling as lightly as you did last night. How wonderful.”

Angus looks between the two of them and sighs.  _ Adults.  _ He pulls a few silver coins from his pocket and presses them into Arthur’s hand as they pass into the train compartment. “Thank you, Arthur. We know the way from here.”

Arthur gives him a greasy smile. “Very good, sir. Please enjoy the ride.”

“You too!” Blue shoots back. ( _ Polite to mean strangers- intentional or ignorant?) _

Angus coughs to cover a snicker, and bumps into a tiefling woman walking by them in the narrow corridor. “Oh, excuse me ma’am,” he apologizes with a sheepish smile.

The woman pauses and glowers down at him with her large, dark eyes. “It is no issue,” she says, gathering her cloak closer around her body. The intricate embroidered pattern shimmers as she moves, quickly stepping around Angus to walk by him. “Good day.” 

Blue nods and murmurs something to her as she hurries by them, earning an even nastier glare before the woman stomps down the corridor.

“Huh,” Blue says. “She seems nice.”

( _ Almost certainly ignorant.)  _ Angus frowns, and they keep walking.

They take seats in the passenger car and talk quietly while the train undergoes its final preparations. “You seem a little distracted,” Angus says cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

Blue sighs and looks out the window at Neverwinter Central. “Sorry, bud. I keep hoping I’ll see something, you know? Something familiar enough to jog my memory. But now I can’t tell if I remember the stuff here from before this whole mess or from just last night. It’s making me all dizzy and shit.”

Angus nods in sympathy. “That would be nice, if you’d been here before. But I think you’re right. Even if you did have memories of Neverwinter, I’m pretty sure you forgot them  _ all _ .” The man had gotten lost twice on the way to the train station, and once coming back from the bathroom. It isn’t definitive in the concrete sense, but Angus is willing to bet on this deduction. 

“Hey, too soon!” Blue protests. He’s smiling though, so Angus smiles back. Another thing he’s quickly deduced about Blue is that when he’s not in the middle of a crisis, he’s got a really fast and fun sense of humor. Like he’s used to poking fun and getting poked right back, tit for tat. ( _ Friendly, likable, fun.) _

Gosh,  _ somebody  _ must be missing this man an awful lot. Angus has to get him back to his person, he just  _ has _ to.

“Sorry, sorry,” Angus says. “That’s enough goofing, we should start planning our route once we get to Rockport.” As he reaches down into his bag, he takes a quick inventory of the passengers around them- it isn’t a full train, but there are still lots of people. That in itself isn’t unusual, but-

In the midst of the usual passengers- families, working adults, couples- 

There’s a little human girl sitting in a corner seat, seemingly traveling alone. She fiddles methodically with a silver bracelet on her arm.

A couple of elderly dwarven men sit two rows behind Angus and Blue. One is wearing dark sunglasses and staring down at a book while the other looks out the window, humming a melody to himself.

Angus accidentally makes eye contact with a dragonborn across the aisle and has to quickly fish out his papers to set on his lap, his heart pounding. He surreptitiously watches the finely dressed dragonborn glaring at him from the corner of his eye until they return to writing in their journal.

“Hey,” Blue whispers. “Doesn’t it seem like there are a lot of… spooky characters on this train?”

He’s right. Blue is right, and Angus doesn’t like this at all. He runs his right thumb over the cuff of his left sleeve, where he keeps his concealed crossbow. Before the fated trip with Jenkins, Angus wouldn’t be so cautious. Now, he has a really bad feeling about this. 

Angus stands. ”Let’s go, Mr. Blue. I think we should get off of this-“

The whistle blows, and the train begins to lurch forward. Thrown off balance, Angus stumbles and falls to the side, landing directly across the dragonborn’s lap and knocking their journal to the floor. Angus doesn’t manage to get a look, mainly because he’s occupied by the furious, scaly face growling down at him.

“I- I am  _ so  _ sorry!” He stammers, twisting to get away. Angry claws dig into his shoulders and he cries out in pain and shock. “ _ Hey, stop!” _

In the next instant, Angus is airborne. He lands hard a few feet down the aisle and groans when his injured back hits the floor. Passengers leap to their feet all around as Blue jumps on the dragonborn and starts throwing punches with devastating accuracy. Angus scrambles backwards on his elbows to get out from under their feet.

“What the hell is your problem?” the dragonborn snarls. 

“The hell is  _ your  _ problem? You stuck your claws in a fucking  _ child!” _ Blue snaps back, his arms wrapped in a wrestling hold around the dragonborn’s neck  _ (Strong, capable fighter. Protective of his friends- children?) _

“Well  _ maybe _ you should have better control of your-”

**_“That is enough!”_ **

Angus’s head snaps up along with the rest of the passengers to look at the source of the booming voice. A single black feather drops from the ceiling of the car, drifting on an invisible breeze, and Angus belatedly realizes that the train has stopped moving.

The feather lands silently on the carpeted floor of the train car and bursts into a cloud of black smoke. 

A strangely accented voice emits from the cloud, speaking louder and louder as the smoke solidifies into a humanoid form.  **“** **_Enemies of the Raven Queen, surrender yourselves. No mortal may meddle with the souls of man without facing the consequences.”_ **

Angus’s eyes automatically go to the suspicious people he’d noticed, and he sees them all freeze in fear- even the little girl. The dragonborn stops fighting Blue and actually whimpers as they see the figure taking shape in the smoke. “Oh no,” they say. “Not  _ him. Not now!” _

A skeletal man steps out of the smoke, finely dressed in a black suit and a crimson lined cloak. An enormous raven perches on his shoulder. The man holds out his bony hands and two objects manifest in a burst of magic. A scroll appears and levitates in front of him while his right hand grasps a large scythe. Angus’s eyes go wide.

“Alright,” Death says pleasantly. “Who wants to turn themselves in first?”

No one in the train moves for several seconds. Then all of the other passengers on the train throw themselves to the floor and the little girl screams, “Now!”

The man by the window channels a spell impossibly quickly- the  _ humming,  _ Angus realizes, he was preparing bardic magic- and a light flies from his hands and into the little girl’s bracelet. She in turn casts a spell with words that sound like falling rain, and tosses the bracelet to the man with the dark glasses. He slides the bracelet on to his wrist and his eyes begin to glow. 

Death frowns, or at least frowns as much as a skeleton can. “Whatever you’re trying to do, you can stop. Your poison hasn’t killed anyone, and it never will. Don’t you understand when you’ve failed?”

The girl looks at him derisively and shoots back a response, but Angus doesn’t catch it. Blue scoops him off the floor and starts hauling ass toward the front of the train. ( _ Eager to fight, but is rational enough to run from mortal danger.) _

“Sir, wait!” Angus protests. He dangles on Blue’s shoulder and fists a hand in the back of his coat- the other hand, he realizes belatedly, clutches the dragonborn’s journal. “We need to stay and find out what’s going on!”

“Are you nuts?” Blue huffs and puffs but still manages to sound exasperated. “That guy’s got it, don’t you worry about him.”

Angus glances back, sees Death raise his scythe and- “Uh, okay. Point taken, please keep running.”

Later, Angus will see perfectly how the cult planned to do it. How they would wait until everyone else was in a dining car and drinking the tea, imperceptibly spiked with silverpoint. How they would raise every single poisoned passenger from the dead at once, summoning and congealing their souls into a grotesque undead abomination. 

But now, watching the black smoke and flashes of red light fade into the distance, Angus can only focus on the only other person running away- the tiefling woman he’d bumped into earlier. 

She’s only a few paces behind Blue in the narrow train corridor but she doesn’t seem to be even looking at them. Her eyes are frantic and frightened and she mutters to herself as she runs. Then she seems to snap out of her daze and her eyes settle on the book in Angus’s hands.

“Blue,” Angus panics. “We have company!”

The man spares only a quick glance over his shoulder before grunting and facing forward once again. “Don’t worry about it,” he says confidently. “She can’t hurt us any more than those bozos can. They’re all toast.”

“You,” she hisses, and Angus yells out in alarm as she raises her clenched fist and sends a beam of dark green light shooting toward them. He holds the journal up in front of his face, as if paper and ink will be able to shield him from necrotic magic, and squeezes his eyes shut. “Blue, duck!”

But the blast never hits them. It stops short and fizzles out in an underwhelming puff of sparks and smoke, not even touching them as Blue hauls Angus out of the train and into the grassy field just beyond the train station. Blue finally stops to catch his breath and sets Angus on his feet again. 

The tiefling stumbles out right behind them, but she looks much worse for wear. Her long skirt is smoking at the hem and her skin has become sallow and dry in mere seconds. She falls to her knees and breathes in labored gasps. Angus notes the faint green tint to her body and quickly realizes that she caught some rebound from her failed hex when she ran through the smoke. 

“I  _ told _ her that cloak was useless,” Blue mutters. Angus doesn’t even know where to start with that.

“What do we do?” Angus asks shakily, clutching the book like a lifeline. “I don’t know that spell. Is she going to  _ die?” _

Blue shakes his head, steps forward and squats down to cautiously examine the shivering woman. “No. Not from that, anyway. Just a haywire curse. But uh, I think that’s probably the least of her worries, if she’s with those other weirdos.”

_ “Yibyiru”  _ the woman croaks. “We will… break the thrall of  _ Zuggtmoy _ … none shall prevent her coming…” 

“Oh, will you  _ can it?”  _ Blue takes his dagger from where he’d concealed it and brings the hilt down hard on the back of the woman’s head, right between the horns. She crumples to the ground, unmoving but not dead. A small bottle rolls out of her hand as her clenched fists go limp. Her palm unfurls to reveal a large, circular tattoo resembling a withered plant. It glows with that same green light encompassing her body.

Blue leans closer, kneels next the to the woman and draws his dagger. He makes a quick, shallow cut across the center of the tattoo to break the top layer of skin and disrupt the sigil. The skin is so brittle and dry that it barely even bleeds.

( _ Precise, automatic movement. Knowledge of anatomy. Medical background?) _

Angus lets out a relieved, somewhat delirious laugh when the sickly green aura starts to fade. “You did it,” he says incredulously. “Blue, how did you know that would work?”

Blue stares unblinkingly at the unconscious tiefling and frowns. “I didn’t,” he says. But he doesn't sound certain. He picks up the glass vial and uncorks it, swirls the liquid, sniffs it. Curls his lip and spits out, “Silverpoint. Must be what they were gonna kill us all with.” 

( _ Quick thinking, scientific mind, good instincts. Knows more than he realizes.) _

A loud  _ bang _ shakes the ground and the train in front of them. Angus jumps. His eyes fly to the back of the train, where flashes of smoke and light are being thrown all around. And then he sees people- the rest of the passengers- pouring from the exit. He sees the Neverwinter Militia running for the stalled train, the unconscious woman at his feet, and the poison and knife in Blue’s hands. The knife that should have been in the safe in the back of the train, if they’d decided to declare their weapons.

Angus McDonald is a good person. He knows that. The ones looking for the truth are always the good guys. And he thinks that Blue is a good person, too. But he doesn’t think that the authorities will agree with his philosophy if they see this chaotic scene and find a stranger with no identity in the center of it holding a bloody dagger.

“Blue,” he shouts over the panicked voices of the passengers. “We have to go now! We’ll find another way past the mountains!”

Blue blinks. He scans the area and from the look on his face and the way he quickly corks the poison and stows his knife away again, he’s come to the same conclusion as Angus.  _ Quick thinking under pressure,  _ Angus quietly amends to the tally he’s been keeping in his head. As more and more people crowd into the field around them, Angus takes ahold of Blue’s coat sleeve so they won’t get separated.

A cold hand falls heavily on Angus’s shoulder and he flinches at the sting of his forgotten scratches. Blue immediately pulls him closer, away from the newcomer. “Hey watch it, asshole! The kid’s hurt.”

Angus turns and looks up at a very handsome man wearing a suit. His hair is dark like Angus’s but much longer, coiled into neat dreadlocks and tied behind his head. He looks taken aback at Blue’s outburst and Angus’s pain, and stammers through an apology with an unnameable accent. “I- okay, that’s on me, I should’ve realized- I mean that book’s the whole reason I’m even over here, and you’re the one who took it, right? I’m sorry they hurt you, I should’ve gotten here sooner.”

Angus narrows his eyes. That’s a very familiar voice.

Blue wiggles his fingers and Angus gladly hands him the book for safekeeping; he knows that grownups are way better at keep-away than he is. “Hello sir,” Angus says in polite greeting. “Why do you need that villain’s journal?”

The man glances between the two of them, looking confused. His eyes linger on Blue longer than Angus thinks is normal. “I- well, Angus, it’s evidence. I need to collect all of the weapons those necromancers wanted to use, and that includes their research.”

“Why, you a cop?” Blue interjects at the same time Angus asks, “How do you know my name?”

“... Queen help me,” the man mutters. “That’s a complicated question, and there’s no easy answer that won’t frighten the both of you. But if you insist, I can take care of the rest of them and find you again later.” He looks down at the tiefling with contempt and picks her up like she weighs nothing. His sharp eyes flit between them once again and he nods as a hole opens up in reality. “Goodbye, Angus McDonald. I hope the next time we meet is more pleasant, although ideally that shouldn’t be for several more decades. But I will definitely be seeing  _ you  _ again soon-”

The noise that comes out of the man’s mouth sounds like tearing paper, stone against stone, and a raging waterfall all in one. Angus can see his mouth moving and forming the shapes of words, but hears nothing but, but-

_ Static. Words forming but none sticking, none making any sense. Three strangers on a train with three silver bracers. Items of great value and power. An organization that protects them. _

Angus reaches out a hand, yells “Wait!” But the tall man has already stepped through the tear, taking the woman with him, and vanished. In the split second before the portal closes behind him, Angus sees his dark skin and hair fade away to white bone.

Blue shakes his head roughly, as if to clear water from his ears. “Now  _ what  _ did that sonuvabitch call me?”

“Your name,” Angus breathes. “He called you by your name, but something prevented us from  _ hearing  _ it.” He looks up at Blue, eyes wide. “I get it now! You don’t know your name because you  _ can’t  _ know it! You don’t know who you’re looking for because you  _ can’t!  _ No one can! Something- or someone- is blocking all the information related to-!” 

Angus suddenly remembers where they are, surrounded by people and with the authorities on the way. He takes Blue’s hand and starts running with the crowd, away from the train and back toward Neverwinter. 

“Kid- hey, Angus! Where the hell are we going?”

“There are too many prying ears!” he shouts back without slowing down. “We need to go back to my house and figure this out!” 

If they can, that is. But now that Angus knows what he’s looking for, he knows more than ever that they can do this.

After all, he’s the world’s greatest detective. And whether he knows it or not, Mr. Blue is the key to the biggest mystery he’s ever encountered. If anyone can crack this, it’s them.

Them or no one.


	4. Chapter Three: The Conductor

They rest, first and foremost. Angus locks the doors, sets his wards, and makes them both some hot tea with lots of honey. They sip in silence at the kitchen table.

A clock chimes somewhere in the house, and Angus sighs. It’s only three in the afternoon. _How_ did that all happen within half an hour?

Blue seems to be having similar thoughts. He sets his teacup down very carefully into the saucer and raises an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to ask questions yet?”

Angus’s lips twitch. “You already are, sir. So I guess so. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t. It just couldn’t trust that the area wasn’t compromised.”

“Compromised by who?” Blue asks in a deadpan tone. “The cultists, the police, or Death himself?”

“That _was_ pretty crazy,” Angus agrees.

“That’s who that guy in the suit was, right? The one who talked like a fistful of gravel?”

“I think so. I’ve heard of beings like him, bounty hunters for the Raven Queen. They chase down death criminals and people who misuse magic, like necromancers.”

“Fuckin’ _necromancers,”_ Blue agrees.

Angus sits up straight in alarm. “Do you remember knowing any necromancers?” Several details from their day swirl through his mind and he almost thinks he can see a picture forming, but-

“Oh hell no,” Blue swears. “I don’t mess with that stuff. Don’t think so, anyway. All of those folks on the cult train gave me the creeps big time. Felt sick just standing too close.”

Angus deflates. “Oh. That makes sense, I guess. They were pretty awful, and I’m glad that Death took them to ghost jail.”

“No argument there,” Blue agrees. He picks up the journal from the kitchen counter and flips through it. “I gotta say though, whatever they were trying to do wasn’t gonna work anyway.”

He’s going to get whiplash from how quickly his theories are changing from likely to unlikely and back. “How do you mean?” Angus asks.

Blue sets the book down and slides it across the table to Angus, tapping a hand drawn symbol on the open page. “I mean look at these sigils, they’re a damn mess! I don’t think they even used a protractor. Fuckin’ _amateur._ And it’s not just this, did you see that lady’s shoddy work on her cloak? You can’t weave sigils that powerful into wool, and _definitely_ not with thread that cheap. It’s cotton and gold, or maybe silver in a pinch, but other than that?” Blue makes an explosion noise and gives Angus a thumbs down. “You got nothin’ but duds all the way down. The spells burn right through.”

Angus watches Blue intensely as he speaks. He doesn’t stutter once in his explanation, so confident and at ease with the subject matter that he seems like an entirely different person from the uncertain amnesiac he’s come to know. “What, do you- Mr. Blue, how do you know all of these things?” Angus asks.

“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious?”

“You _just_ told me that necromancers and dark magic freak you out!” Angus exclaims. He points his own finger at the book, which all looks like gibberish to him. “I can’t even _read_ this, and you’ve lost all of your memories, but somehow… somehow you understand this really bad stuff. I just don’t understand how that’s possible.”

Blue blinks, and within a heartbeat he’s back to hunching in on himself and looking anxious. He looks between Angus and the book and frowns, adjusting his glasses. “Huh. That’s uh, that’s a good point.” He hesitates and quietly asks, “You’re sure you’ve never heard of any of this? It’s not like, common knowledge?”

Angus remembers the glow of the tiefling’s curse engulfing her body and shudders. “Definitely not.”

That does nothing to reassure Blue, so Angus backpedals. “If you say you’re not a necromancer, I believe you. You probably wouldn’t remember anyway, but still. We can figure that out later,” he says, closing the book and pushing it away. “About what Death said- You need to know what I know.”

He tells Blue about the strangers he met on the Rockport Limited, about the static that poured from their mouths and what they went through to obtain some sort of dangerous and valuable item. How they vanished without a trace soon after, even if Angus had since learned the true identity of one of them.

“No shit, you met _the_ Taako?” A crooked grin crosses Blue’s face and he sighs happily, leaning his cheek into his hand. “You’re a lucky kid, y’know that? I’d find my memories and give ‘em back up again for a chance to see one of his shows. Closest I got was the old posters I saw in Rockport.”

Angus hums and places his chin in his hands, grinning. “I’ll tell you Mr. Blue, he’s even more handsome in person.”

“H-Hey now,” Blue stammers. His cheeks turn pink. “That’s _so_ not what I meant!”

“I’m only teasing, Mr. Blue.” Angus takes their empty teacups to the sink to let his friend collect himself. “Do you remember knowing about his show before you woke up in the cave?” he asks curiously.

“Not really. But in Rockport, they- he was all they would talk about, you know? His recipes are incredible, is all I’m sayin’. Folks at the inn had his cookbook, and that’s honestly why I shelled out the silver for room and board instead of just sleeping outside and saving money faster.” He averts his eyes and adjusts his glasses again, clearing his throat. “It’s weird. Even though I don’t have a home to miss, when I ate that food I didn’t feel so homesick anymore.”

“Hmm.” Angus taps his finger against his chin. That could be a clue- maybe Blue and Taako are from the same area, and that’s why his food reminds Blue of home. “I think my grandpa might have had that cookbook in his library,” he realizes. “That’s a lead we can follow. And even if we can’t head out today like we planned, we can at least make you feel more at home, right? We can make a Taako dinner!”

He finishes rinsing the cups and turns to go to the library, but a soft sound makes him pause. He looks at Blue and sees his glasses streaked with tiny specks of tears, and he’s starting at Angus like he’s going to break down crying at any second. But he also looks unbelievably happy.

“Mr. Blue?” Angus prompts. “Is everything okay?”

Blue sniffs, plucking his glasses from his face to clean them on his shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t- don’t stop on my account, we’ve got a dinner to make don’t we? Fuckin’ shameful, lettin’ a little kid take care of himself when there’s adults around. You go get that book and I’ll get ready to make the food happen.”

Angus smiles. “Sure thing, Mr. Blue. I’ll be right back.” He quietly takes the necromancer’s journal and walks out of the kitchen to the sound of cabinets opening and closing while Blue searches for pots and basic meal starters in the pantry.

It only takes him a minute to find the cookbook. It’s right where he left it, shelved with the others. But the reason Angus wanted to retrieve it alone is tucked between the pages.

It had taken him a while to get his hands on a copy of this particular case file; no matter how famous the show was, Glamor Springs definitely wasn’t on anyone’s radar. Angus unfolds the page and stares at the image printed there. It’s definitely Taako from the train, just younger and more smiley. He cheeses for his portrait, at complete odds with the information scrolling down the page. Forty people dead, poisoned all at once, and Taako fleeing into the night.

He’s still wanted by the Glamor Springs authorities, Angus knows. Had almost entertained the thought of pursuing him after the train murder, if he hadn’t been so caught up in paperwork.

Blue really admires Taako. There’s no need to let him know about this. Angus slips the file between two other cookbooks, sets the journal down on his desk, and takes Taako’s book back to the kitchen.

“Here it is!” Angus holds up the book for Blue to see. “Let’s take a look and see what sounds good!”

Blue grins and takes the offered book, laying it open on the counter for them both to read. He ruffles Angus’s hair, but freezes once he realizes he’s done it. “I, uh.”

Angus doesn’t draw attention to it. He points at the table of contents and says, “I don’t think we have time for ‘48 Hour Lamb Chops’ or have any lamb chops anyway, but the breakfast options seem simple enough. Do you like pancakes?”

The hand slowly retracts and turns to the correct page. Blue scans the instructions and nods slowly. “Yeah, you have all of this stuff. But pancakes for dinner? That’s a little weird.”

Angus giggles. “That’s really not the weirdest thing about today, Mr. Blue.”

Blue laughs too. “Point taken. Night breakfast it is. Now, how good are you at cracking eggs?”

“Pretty good- oh, wait a second!” Angus grabs the bottle of silverpoint poison and takes it over to the china cabinet, setting it on a high shelf. “So there’s no chance of us getting it mixed up,” he says by way of explanation. “Now, you were asking about eggs?”

They don’t have the means to transmute their syrup into vinegar and back, but Angus reassures Blue that it will be just fine anyway.

An hour later they’re laid out in the library on two separate couches, groaning and clutching their stomachs.

“Too much,” Blue moans, rubbing his stomach miserably. “I told you to cut me off after ten.”

“I told _you_ to cut me off after seven,” Angus retorts. He tries to sit up and claps a hand over his own mouth at the wave of nausea that rolls over him. “Ugh.”

“Ugh,” Blue agrees. “I don’t think the book mentioned pancake hangovers, but maybe there’s a cure in the drink section?”

Angus waves his arm uselessly over the side of the couch. “I left it in the kitchen. If you want a cure, we’ll have to check the black book.”

Blue snickers. “Can’t hurt to check.” He reaches up and grabs the book from Angus’s desk, flipping through it way too quickly to actually be reading it. “Bad news, looks like we’re gonna feel like this forever. I blame myself.”

“Actually, pancakes are weird like that. It’s possible that we’ll get hungry again before the end of the night.”

“ _Please_ no.” Blue drops the open book onto his face. “Ow.”

Angus laughs so hard he has to stop, wincing through the pain in his stomach. “Please stop making me laugh! Say something that’s really unfunny.”

“The Goldcliff Militia.”

“Yeah, I guess that’ll do it.”

“No, Angus, I mean- the _Goldcliff Militia.”_

“What?” Angus twists on the couch to frown at Blue. “What about it?”

The man is sitting upright now, all traces of laughter gone as he stares intently at the journal. “I don’t know what most of this says, but this is definitely a map of Goldcliff. And look.” He beckons Angus over and points to the legend of the map. “These are the same symbols we found on my jeans, right?”

Adjusting his glasses, Angus examines the page. It’s covered in sigils and what looks like Infernal writing. And yes, the same strange symbols from the maker’s label on Blue’s jeans. They’re scrawled messily in heavy, dark red ink directly over the map’s legend. The symbol that was supposed to mark the police station has been crossed out.

“That’s them,” Angus confirms. “What do you think it means?”

Blue shrugs. “Hell if I know. But it _is_ on the way to Wave Echo Cave. Maybe we can find some answers there.”

Angus nods slowly and gestures for the black book. Blue only hesitates for a second before handing it over. “Get some sleep, Blue. I’m going to study this some more and in the morning, we’re going to leave Neverwinter for real.”

“You sure you don’t want any help with that?” Blue asks. “I can still read some of it.”

Biting his lip in the ensuing silence is all Angus can manage, but it’s apparently enough to give Blue the wrong idea about what he’s thinking. “I’m not a damn necromancer!” he says, looking hurt. “You think I’m gonna hex you in your sleep, Angus? Really?”

“Of _course_ not!” Angus exclaims. He perches on the edge of the couch and puts a hand on Blue’s arm. “Blue, I trust you. But just _looking_ at these symbols earlier gave you a headache, and the people on the train made you feel sick. I’m supposed to be helping you, and this is how I can do it. I’m going to figure this out for you so you don’t hurt yourself trying.”

Blue is already looking contrite before Angus is halfway through speaking. He takes a shaky breath and slumps down against the cushions, shaking off Angus’s hand. “God, sorry. I uh, I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me here. I’m just, I’m fucking _scared,_ kid. What are my jeans doing in this thing? What if I really am wrapped up with those creeps?”

Angus examines the book in his hands, running his hands over the worn leather cover. “It didn’t seem like they knew you,” he offers. “And I think you’re a good person. Just because you know this stuff doesn’t mean you ever used it to hurt people.”

“I hope not,” Blue whispers. His voice shakes with uncertainty.

Angus smiles. “Hey, what if I sleep in here tonight?” He suggests. “I can read to you so you don’t have to look at the book too much, and we can work on it together that way.”

Blue gives a bitter laugh. “Angus, you got the weirdest idea of a sleepover I ever heard of. But if anyone can figure out this dark magic shit, I’d say it’s you and me.” He scooches closer to the back of the couch and puts a cushion under his head to get comfortable. “Now if those symbols aren’t Infernal or Abyssal, and it turns out I know they’re not…”

* * *

The grandfather clock in the library chimes the hour- eight steady chimes and then silence. Angus wakes up feeling groggy and too warm, cocooned in blankets with his glasses poking his cheek. He sits up and groans and rubs his eyes against the early morning light streaming through the window. “Blue, we need to wake up.”

“Is that really what you’re calling him?”

Angus yelps, flails against the blankets, and falls off of the couch to land in a painful heap. “Ow,” he whimpers.

A shadow falls over him and Angus flinches, but the figure over him only reaches down and gently untangles him from the blankets. Angus blinks rapidly in the early morning light up into the face of Death, back in his handsome human form. A raven sits placidly on his shoulder.

“I’m awfully sorry,” the man whispers in that strange accent. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But we need to talk, don’t we?”

Angus looks frantically over at Blue, sighs in relief to see that he’s still sleeping soundly, wrapped in blankets and his coat and _not_ being hauled off to ghost prison. “What do we need to talk about?” He asks carefully.

The man tilts his head toward the kitchen and says, “Walk with me.”

Angus hesitates. What’s going to happen to Blue if he leaves him alone? He wonders if there are other reapers nearby.

“Don’t worry,” Death says. “As valuable a bounty as he is, your ‘Blue’ is unfortunately outside of my jurisdiction by command of Lady Istus.”

At that, Angus’s curiosity wins out over his caution. He crawls to his feet and follows Death to his kitchen so they can talk normally, grabbing the black book along the way. He tries not to feel nervous when Death closes the door firmly behind him.

“Would you like some tea, Mr. Death?” Angus asks. It’s only polite, after all. His grandpa always offered tea to his guests. He said it was hospitable.

“No, thank you. This visit shouldn’t take long,” Death says. “And please, Death is my Goddess. Call me Kravitz.” He gestures to the kitchen table and Angus sits down with him. The raven hops down onto the table to explore.

“Hi there,” Angus murmurs. The bird lowers its head and demands attention, which Angus gladly gives with a scratch to its head.

Kravitz’s eyes lock onto Angus and hold him there steadily. “Now, Angus McDonald, I have something to ask of you. I need you to hear me out and really think about what I have to say before you make any decisions.”

Angus nods and stops playing with the raven so he can focus. “Okay, sir.”

“Thank you, Angus. Well, the first thing you should know is that while I am an emissary of the Raven Queen, I am also a servant of Istus. Do you know who that is?”

“The Goddess of Fate,” Angus replies dutifully. “It makes sense that Death and Fate would work together.”

“Yes, excellent. You’re making this much easier for me.” Kravitz leans forward on his elbows and steeples his fingers together. “As easy as fixing an imbalance in fate can be, in any case.”

“An imbalance in fate!” Angus exclaims, startling the raven into letting out a croaking caw.

Kravitz shushes it, glancing quickly toward the library door and back. “Yes, it would appear so. Lady Istus and the Raven Queen have both set their focus on a handful of powerful beings, beings who have much more sway over the fate of the planes than any mortal should. And one of those beings is sleeping on your couch. His name is-“

Angus is prepared for it this time, but he can’t even read the name on his lips. “I’m sorry,” Angus says. “I can’t understand you.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose the intricacies of the planar system are a bit much to explain to a child, even one as precocious as you are.”

“No, I got _that_ part,” Angus says with a discreet roll of his eyes. “These beings are special, right? Their actions have more consequences for fate than others in the world, enough that it’s messing things up. I’m not surprised that Istus would be upset about that. What I meant is that when you say Blue’s real name, all I hear is static.”

Kravitz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Static?”

“Yes!” Angus wiggles in his seat and flaps his hands around. “It’s not the first time I’ve encountered it, either! There’s some sort of group that blocks this information, but I don’t know how. I met three members on the Rockport Limited before it crashed, and then they vanished! I hypothesize that we may be thinking about the exact same group of beings!”

“Interesting,” Kravitz mumbles, almost to himself. His eyes flash. “You said there were three of them in this group? There weren’t any others?”

“Well, I don’t actually know sir. I met three, but there are probably more. But they didn’t have amnesia like Blue does, and they aren’t like the missing people I’ve been searching for either. And even more confusingly, I can say and hear their real names just fine." Angus slumps, losing his excitement the more he speaks. "So I I guess it really make sense to say that Blue is in the same group as they are.” Damn. And he'd thought he was so close.

Kravitz hums. “You’re sure they gave you their real names? I don’t hear any static when I say his name, but you do. If they truly aren’t in the same group my Goddesses are seeking, how would you know?”

“Oh, that’s easy. One of them is famous,” Angus explains. He points to the cookbook propped up next to the stove. “You’ve heard of Taako, right? From TV?”

Several things happen in quick succession, so fast that Angus barely catches it all. The second he says Taako’s name, the raven on the table screeches. Kravitz’s eyes seem to catch fire, and his skin melts away to bone as he leaps to his feet. “Did you say _Taako?”_ he bellows. A scroll materializes in front of him and he grabs it, his flaming pupils darting from side to side as he scans it. “You’re completely sure of that? What were the others’ names _exactly_?”

Angus squeaks and nods frantically. “Y-Yes! Taako and Magnus and Merle-“

“ _Merle?!_ ”

The house shakes with the force of Kravitz’s anger and Angus recoils. Two skeletal hands grab him by the lapels and lift him off his feet to dangle face to face with a furious skull.

“Are you telling me,” Kravitz seethes, danger dripping from his tone. “That you came into contact with Merle _fucking_ Highchurch? Where did you last see him? Tell me _now!”_

Before Angus can even try to respond, the door to the library slams open with a bang. Blue stands in the doorway with his knife drawn and quickly narrows in on the angry skeleton holding Angus. His face goes red in anger and he levels the blade at Kravitz, yelling “Put him down, you undead fuck!”

The fire in Kravitz’s eyes flares dangerously for a moment, but quickly fades as he takes a moment to think about the situation. His skeletal face blurs in front of Angus’s eyes. He sets Angus back on his feet and takes several steps back, raising his hands to show Blue that he means no harm. “My apologies,” he says stiffly. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I’ll be taking my leave and keeping my promise- your soul is not mine to collect.”

He nods to Angus. “Thank you for the information. I warn you, don’t go to Goldcliff. Your friend might have a heavy hand on the scales of Fate, but nothing good can come from following instructions from the cult of Yibyiru.”

Angus shakes his head, tries to speak. “Please Kravitz, don’t-“

The raven flies over his head and drops something into Kravitz’s hands- the black book, left on the table -and lands on Kravitz’s shoulder. In a puff of smoke and feathers they both vanish.

Blue drops the knife and runs to Angus’s side, kneels to check him over for injuries. “Holy shit kid, what happened? Why didn’t you wake me up when skullface showed up? Did he hurt you? Aw come on Angus, here, let me-“

Angus gasps and grabs at Blue’s wrist when he tries to take off Angus’s glasses. That’s when he realizes they’re spotted with frightened tears, and that he’s been crying.

“W-Wait,” he hiccups. He tries to take his glasses off himself. “I can do it, just give me- give me a second, please.”

“No.” Blue takes the glasses from him and sets them on the chair before picking Angus up and depositing him on top of the table. “You stay right there and let me get a towel.”

The tears flow faster, this time from frustration. Angus kicks his feet and scrubs his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m not a baby, Blue! I can clean my own glasses!”

Blue’s blurry form returns and a damp towel is pressed into Angus’s hands. “I know you’re not a baby, but you just had an experience that would make any adult cry,” Blue admonishes. “You don’t get to do anything for a little bit, you hear me? It’s got nothing to do with you being a kid. People who face death get at _least_ five minutes of mandatory chill time. It’s in the rules.”

He wants to argue. He wants to stand up and tell Blue that he can take care of himself, and how dare he patronize him with his silly talk of ‘the rules?’ It’s something an adult would say to a naughty kid to calm them down after they’d gotten in trouble, not after being threatened by the Grim Reaper himself.

Oh gods. The Grim Reaper had threatened Angus. _Death_ had picked him up and shaken him like a rag doll and he hadn’t been able to even say a word. If Blue hadn’t come in when he did-

Angus buries his face in the towel and sobs. He feels Blue’s hand hover briefly over his head, but he doesn’t touch him. When Angus finally looks up, he sees the vague blur of the library door swinging shut. His glasses, sitting beside him on the table, are dry.


	5. Chapter Four: The Puppet

I They’re mostly silent for the rest of the morning, moving around one another in an uneasy truce. Angus takes some time to think. Blue doesn’t try to coddle him. They make it work. 

At noon, Angus comes downstairs to find Blue writing in a journal. He hesitates in the doorway and just watches for a minute as Blue works. 

“It’s just some calculations,” Blue says without looking up. “I hope you don’t mind, but there were dozens of these blank books in the library.”

Angus winces. He’s been caught. “Of course not, help yourself to anything you need.” He goes to the cabinet and pulls down two cups, fills them with water from the sink and goes to join Blue at the table. He pushes it slowly across the table, a peace offering. 

Blue gives him a grunt of thanks and keeps writing. 

“What are you calculating?” Angus asks after a minute of silence.

“Expenses. I’m gonna have to pay you back for the train ticket and the food eventually. Figured I should just start a tab running on top of your fee.”

“Blue, you don’t have to-“

“Angus, you are a professional detective, and I’m going to pay you for your services. Can’t do it now, obviously, but I will. Just wanted to write it all down so I don’t forget. Well, forget _more._ ” Blue eventually puts down his pen and takes a large gulp of water. “So, what’s our next move?”

Tamping down the urge to argue, Angus ponders on that for a moment. He’s been thinking about it all morning, but he’s still undecided. It doesn’t help that he wants to get Blue’s input first, but they’re still a little tense from the rocky start to their day.

Well, he did ask to be treated like a grownup. Grownups did two things, as far as Angus could tell. Argue about money and make their own decisions. And they’ve already argued over money.

Angus drains his glass and set his eyes forward in determination. “I don’t care what Kravitz said. We’re going to Goldcliff to get the answers we’re looking for. I’ve still got my bag packed and there’s another train leaving in two hours. The station will let us on for free after the incident yesterday.” He hesitates, gauging Blue’s response. “That is, if you’re ready to go.”

Blue scoops up his new journal and pen and closes the book with a decisive snap. “Born ready, bud. I can walk out right now if you want. Just got one question.” He points to the dark glass bottle up on the china cabinet. “Are we taking that with us or leaving it here? I dunno if you have a housekeeper or something but you probably shouldn’t leave it layin’ around.”

“That’s a good point,” Angus agrees. He retrieves the vial and carefully wraps it in a dish towel. “I’ll put it in my bag for safekeeping, and we can try take two.”

“Oh hey, I forgot.” Blue looks sheepish as he pulls his borrowed brown coat off the back of his chair. There’s a huge hole at the shoulder seam that Angus could stick his head through. “Another thing for the tab, I guess. Stuck my big foot right through it this morning when… when I heard the noise.”

Angus puts his foot down on that one. Literally, he stomps his foot on the ground and glares as hard as he can at Blue. “You’re not going to pay me for a coat that isn’t mine that got torn while you were running to save me from an angry skeleton man, Blue. You can go get another one from grandpa’s closet, and that’s that.”

Blue puts his hands up in defeat and laughs dryly. “Whatever makes you happy, kiddo.”

Blue joins him at the door a few minutes later with his new coat on, and Angus thinks for just a moment that as much as he’s already used to seeing the man in blue, red is definitely his color.

This time, the train ride to Rockport is thankfully uneventful. Arthur greets them once again, looking tired and much less put together then the day before. He doesn't even have the energy to say anything snarky to Blue; he just waves them onto the train with a low mumble.

Well, at least he didn’t check their weapons. 

They’d had the option of getting a sleeper car on the Rockport Very Limited or waiting until they caught the connecting train to Goldcliff, and both Angus and Blue agreed that they’d rather talk strategy first. They settle down in the recently cleaned passenger car and pour over a map of Goldcliff together.

Out of habit, or perhaps paranoia, Angus subtly takes inventory of their fellow riders. Nothing and no one seems out of place, but there are far fewer passengers riding today and Angus doesn't recognize any of them from the day before. Apparently, only the two of them were stupid or brave enough to try again so soon.

Blue looks up over the tops of his glasses when the train pulls out of the station. “Already doing better than last time, huh?”

Angus raps his knuckles on the wooden armrest. “Let’s hope our luck holds out.” He taps the tip of his pencil to a spot on the map. “We’ll set up base here, at the inn we’ll be staying in, once we get there. I called ahead to let them know we’ll be there for at least a few days, but they’re amenable to extensions if it comes to that. Lots of people end up staying longer than planned when the battle wagon races are going on.”

Blue makes a sound of recognition. “Oh yeah, I heard about those while I was staying in Rockport. Pretty crazy how folks flock around to watch a broadcasted deadly sport. Ain’t it kind of, y’know, illegal?”

“Based on my understanding, it’s only illegal if you get caught.”

Blue gives a hearty belly laugh, attracting startled and irritated looks from the smattering of passengers over the break in the near silence. “Can’t argue with that!”

“Anyway, we’ll set up there tonight and try to visit the militia tomorrow morning, before the race starts,” Angus cuts in quickly in softer tones. “I should be able to find some help. I might not have a badge, but I’ve worked with lots of law enforcement before on cases.”

Nodding, Blue slumps back into his seat and hums in agreement. “It’s as good a plan as any. I’m just glad we’re finally making progress.”

Angus grins. “Me too.”

They lapse into companionable silence as the train enters the mountain tunnel, the internal lanterns the only source of light. Angus surreptitiously opens his notebook and jots down a few more observations about Blue. His list is getting rather long, and the items are painting two very different pictures of the same man. 

Blue leans over and looks over Angus’s shoulder. “Anything I should know about?” he asks curiously. 

“It’s just some observations,” Angus explains. “I’ve been trying to compile a list of your mannerisms and habits to see if I can fill in some of your past.”

“Huh. What do you have so far?”

Angus leans in a little closer so Blue doesn’t have to crane his neck. “Well, you seem really anxious a lot of the time when you’re talking to strangers. But you got comfortable with me really quickly, so I figure that you’re not a lone wolf by nature. You _like_ being around the people you know.”

Blue makes a face. “I can’t tell you if you’re right or not, but I guess that sounds like me.”

“Don’t say that if it doesn’t feel right!” Angus looks up and points at Blue emphatically. “I’m not saying any of this is right or wrong, I’m just telling you what I see. I mean, I’m usually right about a lot of things but that doesn’t mean I am for sure! If something doesn’t feel correct, you need to tell me so I can update my data.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep that in mind! What else you got?” Blue… Blue looks excited. He’s excited to hear something about himself, no matter if it’s accurate or not. Or maybe he just trusts Angus’s judgement that much. 

Either way, Angus continues on to focus on his notes. “That’s just from the first night. When we were on the train yesterday, you were really nice to Arthur even when he was being passive aggressive and mean to you.”

Blue blinks. “He was?”

Angus makes a line through one of his observations and circles the other. “You’re not actively looking for the bad in people, even if strangers make you nervous. To me, that means you and the people in your life were good and kind. You unconsciously expect others to be good, too.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

It’s Angus’s turn to make a face as he turns a page. “That’s where things get interesting. When things started getting dangerous on the train, you changed. I don’t mean that you became a whole different person, because you didn’t. You were still you, but it was like you had an instinct take over. You fought that dragonborn- and fought them _well-_ because they hurt me. But then Death showed up, and you ran. It seemed-“ Angus breaks off, staring blankly at his book.

Blue places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you don’t gotta talk if you’re still shaken up about it.”

“That’s the thing,” Angus insists. “I _was_ shaken up. But you weren’t. You weren’t scared of the cultist who tried to curse us, and you tried to fight Kravitz with a _knife_ when he was in the kitchen. None of that scared you at all, but you still knew to run away when Death arrived even though all of the other passengers were too scared to move until later. It was like clockwork, like a routine, not a natural fight or flight response.”

“I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

Angus flips to the next page, where he’d copied down some bits of information he’d gotten from Blue about necromancy. “What I mean is that danger and fear don’t affect you the way they affect other people. And going off of my other hypotheses about your past, I’m heading toward a really confusing conclusion. You had a close group of friends, maybe even family, who made you feel happy and safe.”

Blue’s eyes shimmer and he blinks rapidly to clear them. “You really think so?” he asks, choked up.

“I do,” Angus says. “But you also know some frankly terrible things about dark magic, and your reactions to danger make me think that you’ve seen and experienced things that make things like necromancy seem normal to you. And if you were that close to them- _especially_ the person you’re looking for- I’d bet that they’re the same as you are.”

As Angus keeps talking, Blue’s eyes glaze over. He removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing sharply, as if around a sudden pain. “I- I don’t- what does that _mean?”_ He asks helplessly. “So I know bad shit and good people? Are you trying to say I’m good, or bad? The same as _what?”_

Fog creeps into Angus’s mind and he has to fight to stay focused. He feels like he’s getting close to something important, something that could break this case wide open, but there’s something trying to block his path. “I’m saying- I think that you know good people who may have done some bad things. But I also think you had no choice, because you had to use it to escape something even worse.”

Blue abruptly curls in on himself, his glasses falling to the carpeted floor as they slip from his hand. His eyes flash wildly and he opens his mouth in a silent shout of pain.

Angus frantically tries to clear his thoughts away, is relieved when the encroaching fog disappears along with them. “Blue!” He shakes the man’s shoulder roughly and exclaims, “Stop trying to remember! It won’t work, and you’ll only hurt yourself!”

By now they’ve attracted much more attention. They’re the only ones doing anything interesting or odd in the passenger car, after all. Arthur stalks down the aisle and stands in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest. “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” he asks in an annoyed tone. 

Blue might not mind how mean and rude Arthur is, but Angus has had it. Angus looks up from Blue just long enough fix Arthur with his most withering glare. “Please bring us some ice from the dining car,” he says crisply. “My friend is in a lot of pain.”

Arthur looks taken aback at Angus’s brusqueness, as well as how bad off Blue looks. The man is dripping with sweat but his skin is cold to the touch and he gulps down air like he can’t breathe. If Angus didn’t know any better, he’d say that Blue looked unhinged.

A short nod. “Right away, sir.” Arthur gives a shallow bow and runs back to the other end of the train car.

Angus breathes a sigh of relief and tries to pull Blue’s face up from his shaking hands. “Blue, it’s okay. You have to breathe, alright?”

“Is he okay?” a gruff voice asks.

Angus jumps and looks up to see the biggest man he’s ever met in his life standing over him. Tall, muscular, and maybe sixty years old, he has a stoic face and a large mustache. With a quick glance Angus sees all he needs to figure out who he is. The insignia of the Goldcliff Militia flashes on his badge, and if he remembers his ribbons and braids correctly then the man’s uniform is that of a captain. The small pin on his chest reads Bane. 

Captain Bane pulls back at the charged look on Angus’s face, and Angus fights to remain calm. Meeting this man can’t be a coincidence after everything they’ve gone through, and he needs to know what that means. And that means not scaring him off.

“I don’t know,” Angus answers honestly. He pats Blue’s back in an attempt to offer him comfort. “He’s not sick, but I think his head hurts really badly. He’s had amnesia, you see, and when he tries to remember it hurts him.”

He watches the captain’s expression for any reaction, but he doesn’t get any. “That’s damn unfortunate,” he says, idly smoothing down the ends of his mustache. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s an amnesiac doing traveling with a little boy?”

“Boy Detective,” Blue corrects shakily. He sits up just a little bit and waves a hand at the captain without lifting his head. “We’re just on our way to Goldcliff on business. I’m fine, nothing to worry about here. Go on Angus, tell him.”

But Angus isn’t paying attention to what Blue’s saying. When the muscular captain moved his hand, Angus caught a glimpse of a familiar silver bracer on his forearm. 

Captain Bane looks at him expectantly and Angus swallows. “Something is keeping him from remembering _important things_ ,” he says slowly and clearly.

That finally gets a reaction. The captain reflexively jerks his arm down and hides the bracer out of sight, his eyes widening in understanding. He looks around surreptitiously before whispering, “Are you talking about the-?”

The static makes Blue sit up straight. He stares searchingly at Captain Bane and Angus’s heart aches when he realizes that the two men don’t recognize each other at all. “Yeah,” Blue says breathlessly. “Whatever you mean, I think maybe we are.”

A panicked expression crosses Captain Bane’s face. “You couldn’t hear that, could you? Who are you people, if you’re not- not with me?”

“Oh, of course! How rude of me.” Angus extends his hand to shake, and it’s completely swallowed by Captain Bane’s. “I’m detective Angus McDonald and this is Blue, my client. And you, Captain Bane, may be the lead we’ve been looking for.”

Captain Bane opens his mouth to reply but unfortunately, that’s the moment that Arthur chooses to return with a small bucket of ice and a towel. Angus reclaims his hand and quickly takes the supplies so he can make an ice pack. “This is perfect, thank you.”

“I live to serve,” Arthur says curtly before softening a little and addressing Blue. “Are you feeling any better, sir?”

Blue gratefully accepts the wrapped bundle of ice that Angus prepares for him and presses it to his cheek. He squints, to see who’s speaking to him, and nods gingerly. “Much better. Thank you, Arthur.”

“Arthur, I hate to bother you with another request,” Captain Bane cuts in. “But I’d like to change my travel arrangements. Are there any sleeper cars available to accommodate three people?”

Arthur raises his eyebrows and makes a show of examining the nearly empty passenger car. “We’re all full up at the moment,” he says, deadpan.

Captain Bane sighs. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out several silver coins. “How about now?”

The drow gleefully palms the money and beams at them. “Ah, it appears that something just opened up. Please follow me, gentlemen.”

Angus quickly scoops up Blue’s glasses from the floor and carefully slides them onto his face so he can see where he’s going. “Can you walk?” he asks.

“I’ll manage,” Blue replies. He blinks to clear his hazy eyes and groans as Angus helps him to his feet. “Just don’t say anything else about, uh, y’know, and I’ll be fine.”

Guilt clogs up Angus’s throat, so he just nods. Together, they shuffle out after Arthur and Captain Bane. 

“Here you are,” Arthur says, stopping in front of a sliding compartment door. “You will find any necessities already inside, and I will bring your luggage shortly.”

“No need for that,” Captain Bane answers, already opening the door and ushering Angus and Blue inside. “That will be all, Arthur. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir. Please enjoy your completely normal and not at all suspicious tête-à-tête with this ill man and his small boy.” Arthur closes the door for them and then they’re finally alone. 

The sleeping car looks nearly identical to the one Angus was given on his last train ride, tastefully decorated and comfortably furnished. He quickly guides Blue over to the nearest bed and helps him lie down. “Are you okay with me telling him everything we know about you?” He asks seriously. “I really think he’s our answer.”

Blue smiles and gives him a shaky thumbs up. “Go for it, kiddo. I’m gonna take a little power nap in the meantime, try to get my feet back under me.” He removes his glasses one more time and sets them on the nearby side table, and within thirty seconds Angus hears him begin to snore.

The boy detective turns to the militia captain and meets his gaze head on. “Thank you for helping him,” he says sincerely. “I’m willing to tell you anything I can if you’ll help us just a little bit more.”

For the first time, the stoic line of Captain Bane’s mouth tilts into a small smile. He pulls up two chairs next to Blue’s bedside and gestures for Angus to join him. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try my best,” he says. “You won’t be able to understand the most important things, and I have a bit of a situation on my hands in Goldcliff. One of the… bad things, I suppose.”

Angus already has his bag in his lap, rummaging around for his notebook. He thinks he has it for a moment, but when he withdraws his hand it’s clutching the unwrapped silverpoint bottle. “Whoops,” he mutters to himself. “Back you go.” He finally gets everything settled and opens his notebook to a clean page. “So you were trying to ask us about the thing that suppresses memories, right? Let’s start there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit short, but I need to get something out there or it will never happen. I have the shape of this now, and it will only be one or two more chapters total before I'm done. I honestly just want to finish it so I can stop worrying about it, but I'm still trying to have fun with my writing so we'll see how that goes. Thanks so much for reading, and double thanks to the kind comments over the last couple of months. I haven't got the spoons to respond to all of them, but they mean a lot!


	6. Chapter Five: The Master

As soon as they disembark the train in Goldcliff, Angus feels a chill pass over him and hang there like a wet blanket. The sun still shines overhead, warming the vacation destination to perfection, but there’s definitely something off.

“You’re sharp,” Captain Bane says when Angus brings it up. “It’s the influence of the Raven’s power. Most people don’t notice it, and if they do they only feel pulled toward it.”

Angus tries to tell himself that’s a good way for him to be different, probably. He shields his eyes with his hand, looking around the Goldcliff train station with awe. “But there are so many people here. Do they really just not _feel_ it?”

“They might not, but I do.” Blue steadies himself with a hand on Angus’s shoulder, swallowing a groan. “Headache’s gone for now, but my stomach is _killing me._ Feels like those Yibyiru clowns are running circles around us and taking turns stabbing me in the gut.”

“Interesting,” Captain Bane murmurs. Before Angus can ask what he means by that, two uniformed officers rush up to them to greet the captain.

“Sir, welcome back!” The human man and halfling woman salute the captain. 

“At ease,” Captain Bane rumbles. “These two are Angus McDonald and Mr. Blue. They’ll be accompanying me on official business, so make sure that they’re afforded every courtesy the militia has to offer.” He gestures a hand toward Blue and Angus, who holds out his hand to shake. The human man chuckles under his breath and does so. His name is apparently Rodrick, and he seems somehow familiar to Angus. But not _too_ familiar- he probably just has one of those faces. 

“Of course, sir,” the halfling says quickly before lowering her voice. “I’m glad to have reinforcements, if I’m being honest. The situation escalated dramatically while you were gone and we could really use you in the field _right now.”_

Angus looks quizzically between Captain Bane and the officer- a lieutenant, name badge reading Hurley- and wonders what the situation could possibly be. He gathered from their conversation on the train that someone was using one of the Bad Things in Goldcliff, but he’s still unsure of what that actually means. “Why? What’s going on?” he asks. 

Lieutenant Hurley bites her lip, seemingly unsure of how much to say. At Captain Bane’s nod, she continues. “The Raven is in the Goldcliff Trust as we speak, Captain. The building is covered in uncuttable vines and no one can get in to stop her.“

Angus feels his eyes grow wider and wider while Hurley speaks. “A bank robbery? Cool! Can we go too?”

Blue is already shaking his head before Angus even finishes the question. “We agreed that we were gonna rest up at the inn and talk about our next move,” he reminds Angus. “It’s also probably not a _great_ idea for us to go looking for that kind of trouble. Uh, y’know, considering…” He taps a finger to his temple and winces. 

That’s a good point, Angus figures. Blue has already had a pretty rough day, so it wouldn’t hurt to rest some more before getting down to business. “Okay, then I guess we’ll see you later Captain Bane! It was nice meeting the two of you,” he adds to Lieutenants Hurley and Rodrick. 

“You too!” comes Hurley’s easy reply. “Enjoy your stay in Goldcliff, and try to stay safe. There’s going to be a big battle wagon race tomorrow, and they say it’s going to be a nasty one.” She and Rodrick turn to leave, but Captain Bane hesitates. 

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to come by the station today?” he asks. “I actually have a few fellows from my… special team slated to help us with the Raven situation, but it looks like they’re running late.”

As much as Angus might want to find out more about Captain Bane’s organization, he shakes his head. “No, thank you. I appreciate all of your help so far, but Blue and I have a lot to talk about.”

Captain Bane slowly nods to them both. “Alright, then. In that case, try to be at the station tomorrow before the race. I may have a few leads that could help you with your own case, but they might have to wait until after we catch the Raven.”

That seems to lift Blue’s spirits just as much as Angus’s. He smiles the whole walk to the inn, taking in the sights of the city with wide eyes. As advised, they steer clear of the financial district. 

“This place is amazing,” Blue says in awe. He pauses on a street corner to admire the large body of water in the center of the city. In the early afternoon, the sun glints red and gold and pink light off of the pool. “I don’t think I’ve been here before, but I might have to change that.”

Angus blinks. “You’d want to settle down in Goldcliff?”

Blue shrugs and keeps walking, shoving his hands into the pockets of his borrowed coat. “Who knows? If she ended up somewhere around here, I just might.”

Angus frowns and makes a mental note before following suit. 

The inn- well, it’s not really any sort of inn that Angus is used to, but compared to the lavish resorts in the city, it _is_ an inn- receives them immediately even though they’ve arrived slightly early for their scheduled check-in time. The front desk hands Blue the key to their room and Angus lets that one go without comment. He finds it’s easier to let adults assume what they want to assume. 

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. McDonald!” The concierge says brightly as they walk away.

“Thank you,” Blue and Angus say in unison. That makes Angus quirk an eyebrow, to which Blue only gives another abashed shrug. Easier, indeed. 

Their room is kind of ridiculous, really. Angus knows that Goldcliff is one of the richest cities in Faerun, but does that really warrant goose down pillows piled on both mattresses and satin canopies above the beds? When he checks it he finds that even the en suite bathroom is over the top, with charmed tea lights floating around the claw footed tub. 

Blue looks equally uncomfortable with the lavish accommodations. He picks up a pillow and quickly puts it back down, wiping his hands down the legs of his jeans. “Shit, this was really the cheapest place in town? It makes my old digs in Rockport look like a dumpster.”

“Not quite the cheapest,” Angus admits, cheeks warm. “This is where my grandpa would stay when he went on vacation. I found the receipts in his office, and he really seemed to like it a lot so I figured I could trust his opinion. Plus, it’s a good distance from both the station and the racing grounds.”

“Huh,” is all the response that gets from Blue. “Oh hey, look…” He crosses over to the side table situated between the two beds. It holds a brass clock and oil lamp as well as a fancy looking bottle with a note attached to it. Blue picks it up and grins, shaking the bottle loosely in his fist. “Well I’ll be damned- sparkling grape juice, and it says its complementary.”

Looking at the condensation dripping down the side of the bottle, Angus is suddenly parched. They did walk quite a ways, after all. “Then I guess we should open it,” he says with a very casual shrug. “If it’s complementary.”

They set up on the sofa, although it takes them a minute to settle because the cushions are so soft it feels like they’re going to be swallowed up. They eventually get comfortable though, both of them shedding their shoes and Blue slinging his red coat over the back of the couch. They toast with their glasses of juice and drink deeply.

“Blue, can I ask you something?” Angus asks after a moment of silence.

“Sure, anything.”

“What do you think your person is like?”

Blue frowns into his glass, thinking. “Not sure what you mean, bud. I still don’t have a clue about anything, I just know I’m missing someone. What brought this on, anyway? I thought you and Bane were talking about _his_ people, not mine.”

“Earlier, while we were walking by the pool, you said ‘she’ when you talked about your person,” Angus explains. “You never specified their gender before, but that time you did.”

“Huh,” Blue says again. He seems to mull it over for a minute and nods once, decisive. “That seems right. But it’s weird that a thing like that would pop up now. You think I might know more than I think I do?”

“I’m thinking that maybe we’ve been going at this wrong.” Angus worries his lip between his teeth, takes another sip of juice. “The parts of you that you still have- your personality, the things you know about necromancy, the fact that you’re missing a person in the first place- those aren’t things you have to think about, right? You just know them?”

Blue nods and gestures for Angus to keep going. He hesitates, but Blue’s eyes still look clear for now so he isn’t so worried that Blue will have another episode just yet.

“So maybe you still know things about her, and maybe even about you, that we could find out if you just weren’t thinking about it so hard. If thinking about things blocks them from getting remembered, then maybe _not_ thinking can dig up some stuff you’re not even looking for,” Angus concludes. It doesn’t really make as much sense when he says it out loud, though. “Sorry, that’s dumb. Forget I said anything.”

Blue smiles kindly and puts a hand on Angus’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t get down on yourself like that. It was as good of an idea as any, and who knows? It might even work. I guess it’s just felt so urgent to remember for some reason that I never took the time to just… feel it. Let it come naturally. I’ll give it a try tomorrow, okay? I’m pretty beat for now though, so how about we head to bed?”

At the mention of bed, Angus has to suppress a yawn. He looks at the clock on the nightstand and is shocked to see that it’s already after eight in the evening. “Yeah, bed sounds really good actually.”

Angus goes into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. There are two mirrors in there, he realizes, on opposing walls. Taking a deep breath, he pulls his shirt up over his head and turns to the side. The reflections bouncing off one another show him an endless corridor of his own scarred shoulders.

Gingerly, he reaches up a hand to touch the closest pink line he can reach and finds that it only hurts a little now. He thinks it’s healing just fine, but he still determines to remind himself to get checked out by a physician as soon as he can. He’d read up on the name Yibyiru in his grandpa’s library after the visit from Kravitz, while he and Blue were still carefully giving each other space. As a demon of poisons and maladies, it couldn’t hurt Angus to make sure an injury at the hands of her acolytes didn’t have any long lasting effects.

Of course, his resolve to do so evaporates as soon as he wakes up the next morning and remembers the race. He all but drags Blue to the station to meet up with Captain Bane and go watch the race together. He’s surprised and a little disappointed to find out that the lieutenant from the day before, Hurley, has the day off. When he mentions it, idly watching the city pas shim by from the back seat of the militia wagon, Captain Bane winces. 

“Yes, Hurley. She’s actually been tasked with guiding my additional reinforcements to the Raven. They have a history together, so if anyone can figure out how to bring the Raven down, it’s her.”

“Even though she’s using a Bad Thing?” Blue speaks up suddenly next to Angus. “I thought they were too dangerous for people outside of your group to deal with.”

Captain Bane parks the wagon and remains motionless in the seat for a moment before sighing. “Some things are more powerful,” he finally says. “Now let’s go get ourselves a seat.”

The race crowd is huge, and Angus has to hold on to Blue’s hand the whole time to make sure they aren’t separated. The makeshift stands line the edge of the track near the starting line, and within the many large wooden crates Angus can hear motors revving. By the time they find a place to sit, the racers are ready to begin. 

Blue still looks consternated, wincing at the constant flurry of sound and activity and gazing aimlessly at the scene below. Angus feels for him in that regard, and pulls two pairs of wax earplugs from his bag. “Here,” he says, offering one pair to Blue. “I don’t do great with loud noises either.”

Blue smiles his thanks and takes it not a moment too soon. Within seconds the flatlands surrounding Goldcliff burst into a frenzy of movement and sound. Armored battle wagons of all shapes and sizes speed across the dusty ground, with one dark vehicle quickly pulling to the front and staying there. The Raven, Angus deduces. 

There are dozens of other flashy wagons, but one stands out to him in particular. There are three people on board and they all look a little bit familiar, but he definitely recognizes the driver from the day before. Angus adjusts his glasses and leans forward in his seat. He points to the wagon and taps Captain Bane on the arm. “That’s Lieutenant Hurley, isn’t it?” he shouts. 

Captain Bane stiffens. Then he puts his face in his hands. “Shit.”

Angus looks back to the track. The other three must be Captain Bane’s reinforcements from the special team, then. They’re going to take down the villain by _racing_ her?

If that’s the plan, it seems to be going pretty well. Hurley’s battle wagon steadily moves up the line as the race progresses, although there is that one interruption when a bugbear comes up on a motorcycle out of nowhere, and by the time they’re nearing the finish line the whole crowd is on their feet in disbelief- “I’d better get down there,” Captain Bane says, and Angus and Blue watch him run down to where the rest of the militia are waiting at the finish line- and then one of the racers pulls out a wand and _switches places with the Raven_!

“Isn’t that cheating?” Angus exclaims. That show of power almost reminds him of someone...

Blue laughs, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Oh, absolutely. Still makes for great racing!” He stands up on his feet and cups his hand around his mouth to yell “Attaboy, Weaselman!” Then he looks closer at the racer, easier to see now that he’s alone, and blanches. “Angus,” he says urgently. “Didn’t you say there were three static guys on your train?”

Angus gasps. _That’s_ why they were so familiar. “Blue, that’s-!”

“Taako,” Blue finishes breathlessly, just as the Raven rumbles over the side of the cliff on her motorcycle. 

The crowd in the stands goes crazy. People very nearly trample one another to get down to ground level and find out what’s going on. What’s going on, as it turns out, is that the sky turns black. Suddenly the wind picks up and there’s a terrible storm, a tornado set loose on Goldcliff, and everyone starts running in the other direction. Everyone but four people on a battlewagon. 

“Did they just-?”

“They did,” Blue says, somehow sounding fond and exasperated at the same time. “They jumped into the tornado.”

“The Raven must be in the eye of the storm,” Angus guesses. “If the Bad Thing can control nature, she must still be alive and controlling it from up there. Do you think there’s anything we can do?”

“Yeah,” Blue agrees. “We can get the fuck outta here.” Just like on the train, he bends down and scoops Angus into his arms to carry him away. 

Angus doesn’t really struggle, though he definitely wants to. “But that’s where your answers are!” he protests. 

“Hey, you’re the one who said I had good instincts for when to cut my losses and run,” Blue counters. He gets them out of the stands and running away from the storm, but stops in his tracks when a loud _bang_ shakes the ground. 

Angus gasps. From over Blue’s shoulder, he sees the red and gold burst of fire as it flashes through the center of the tornado. The winds begin to blow more wildly, lifting people off of their feet and sending wagons sliding around helter shelter. 

“Okay Blue, you were right. We should get to shelter!” Angus says, and Blue doesn’t hesitate before sprinting in the direction of the storm. “Blue, what are you doing?!”

“Her,” he says simply, eyes glazed. “Her, that- that was- her, her, _her.”_ The simple words come through clenched teeth, like they take all of his effort to even say. “Angus, she-“ And to Angus’s astonishment, the next words out of Blue’s mouth are wrapped in static. 

He goes sprawling then, Blue unable to hold him any longer. Angus scrambles upright and latches onto Blue’s hand before he can run any closer to the storm. “Blue, snap out of it!” he shouts over the rising wind. 

He almost thinks that will do it, but then an even more powerful explosion rips through the tornado and Blue screams. 

Angus stands frozen, staring open-mouthed at the sight far above him. The dark storm rages violently, sending people and even the armored wagons flying through the air beneath the funnel cloud of dark energy. He clings to Blue’s hand even as the man drops to his knees, leveled by pain and sobbing in static.  

“Blue!” Angus cries helplessly. He pulls, but he’s not strong enough to force the man’s dead weight anywhere. “Blue, you have to stop remembering! It’s going to _kill_ you! Please get up!”

It obviously takes a lot of effort, but Blue raises his head. He squints up at Angus through his tears, a look of alarm crossing his face. With all of his remaining strength, Blue grips Angus by the shoulders and _heaves._

The ground comes up hard underneath him as Angus falls several paces away. Tears spring to his eyes as he feels the barely closed gashes on his back open up again. He rolls over, pushes himself up to his elbows and his eyes lock with Blue’s. The man’s gaze goes right through him as they clear up, looking right at the tornado. Blue opens his mouth in pained smile, and starts to say “L-” just as the armored battle wagon plummets out of the sky and crushes him in a wreck of fiery metal. 

* * *

**_Lup_ ** _._

_It’s the first coherent thought he has. Lup, the light inside of him, the constant and welcome weight on his heart, the tether of his soul, is the loss that hits first and hits hardest._ _Barry Bluejeans’ soul rips free of his body and screams with enough grief to shatter the planes._

_A hundred years and more come crashing back into him all at once and it paralyzes him, leaving him free floating and incorporeal as the storm around him howls and the crowds below him either flee or meet the same fate as his destroyed body. He doesn’t know how long he writhes like that, but something about this agony of being crushed feels… familiar. He knows he can get through it because he’s been through it so many times already. Slowly, because he must, because everyone_ **_needs_ ** _him to, he pulls himself together._

_He remembers,_ **_finally_ ** _remembers everything that happened to him. Lucretia must have fed all records of him to Fisher after he fell in Phandalin, leaving him with no name and his recorded messages nothing but static to uninoculated ears. The only good piece of luck was him thrashing around in a panic as he woke and breaking part of the containment chamber; the blood in the tank will have grown well over half a body by now, so at the very least he has that backup if he really needs it. But that’s for another time. At this time, this moment, other things need his attention._

_Barry vaguely senses the thrall of the Gaia Sash, but above that, far above that, he senses three familiar souls that pull at him with several lifetimes worth of the strongest bonds that loving and living can offer._

_He looks up, finally, into the storm, where five figures engage in combat atop a great pillar of vines. The Raven is almost lost to the relic’s power. He sees the Ram, the racer who stormed the cliffs with those three chucklefucks hanging on behind her-_

_Ah, shit._

_Those are_ **_his_ ** _chucklefucks._

_He has to do something, has to get up there before his family is killed. But the second he has that thought, the Ram claps her hands and the pillar explodes._

_Burning plant matter rains down around him and the crowds stop running. All of them, together, witness the Ram’s sacrifice and the Raven’s final use of the Gaia Sash. The charred, inert remains of the silverpoint vines are washed out by the flurry of soft, pink petals. He holds out his spectral, skeletal hands and catches one of each, staring intently._

_Silverpoint. The cult’s doomed venture. An irresistible signal, stamped over the headquarters of the Goldcliff Militia._

_Barry looks up as Captain Bane once again arrives on the scene, piling Taako, Magnus, and Merle into a wagon and speeding away. From what he’s gleaned of Bureau protocol, this isn’t it._

_The only perk of dying these days is that Barry is a whole lot smarter afterwards._

_He sweeps the area and quickly finds that his hunch was correct- Angus is long gone. Barry concentrates, and almost instantly a single silver thread pulls taut. Barry closes his eyes and lets the bond whisk him away._

_He materializes in Bane’s office. The officer is nowhere in sight, but Barry can feel the sickly tint to his aura as strongly as he did at the train station. The thread doesn’t stop in the office; it leads toward a small door off to the side, a little ways down the hall._

_Barry phases through the door and looks around, dark vision enhanced enough in this form to see the prone figure of Angus McDonald lying unconscious on the floor. Barry worriedly checks his vital signs and rattles out a sigh of relief to see that he’s completely unharmed. Simply knocked out, safely out of the way._

_There isn’t much he can do physically for Angus at this point, not in this state and not without having to answer more questions than he wants to. After healing up the last of the tender wounds on the boy’s back with a wave of his hand, he casts a quick enchantment to at least make the closet more comfortable; a little more temperate, a little less damp. And then, just for good measure, he drifts down to kneel above the floor and uses his finger to draw a very specific sigil in the air above Angus’s head. It glows red._

_“Yibyiru, I invoke your name,” Barry hisses. “Now listen the fuck up. I don't know exactly what your plan is, but I know your game. You used me and this kid to deliver your poison because your own envoys ain’t shit. But I’m telling you right now, O Rancid Lady of Bitter Bile, to stay the hell away from him. I don’t know what you think you are, but I’m way, way worse. In short: I will cut a bitch, so don’t try me. Fuck off.”_

_The glowing sigil turns black and dissolves into ash. Message received. Having made his young friend as safe as he can, Barry goes back to the office. And then he waits._

_It’s so, so good to see at least this small part of his family together again, even if he has to stay hidden from them. Merle is as snarky as ever, and Magnus as booming and bright. Taako is still the hardest for Barry to see, and not only because he reminds Barry so much of his sister. Taako is a pale reflection of himself and doesn’t even know it, insisting that he’s a simple idiot. It comes close to breaking Barry’s heart, and that’s when the last piece of Yibyiru’s puzzle falls into place._

_Captain Bane listens to their story, confirms that they secured the Gaia Sash, and pulls out a familiar glass bottle full of a thick, brown fluid. He hands each of Barry’s brothers a cup full of poison and Barry’s wistful sorrow burns away into white hot fury. He leaps into Bane’s body at the same moment that Taako casts his charming spell- and it’s so much weaker than it should be, the product of a prodigy divided from a hundred years of experience- and destroys all of the threats. First Taako’s glass, and then Merle’s, smash onto the floor. Magnus’s poison burns on the way down Bane’s throat and Barry recoils, hurriedly splitting away from the dying man’s body. And for the first time in over a decade, he faces them and knows exactly who he’s talking to._

_Barry stares, so happy just to be acknowledged that he doesn’t even flinch when Magnus tries to cleave him in twain with his ax. He stares at the three of them and tries not to break down sobbing at how close they were to being caught up in the plot of a demon of poison, to becoming the first casualties of Bane’s fall to Yubyiru’s corruption. With the Gaia Sash’s power at his disposal and the demon’s power at his back, Bane would have destroyed all of Faerun before the Hunger even got the chance. Hell, from what he now remembers of the other people foolish enough to seek out the relics, they all could have._

_But just as all of that would have broken Barry’s mind in his mortal state, so would it break the minds of his best friends. If Lucretia really was that dedicated to having Barry play the villainous red robe, dedicated enough to erase his human self from the world, then fine. He can play along if it keeps them sane._

_He looks down at his friends, his family, his brothers, and asks with barely contained sorrow:_

**_“Are you afraid?”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fun story about a fun comedy podcast haha :)
> 
> Yes I made a John Rodrick and the Long Winters reference, fight me about it
> 
> Hey did you know that the idea of Barry breaking through the static because he recognized Lup’s power only to be killed on the cusp of that realization made me cry real actual tears??? Cool cool cool


	7. Epilogue: The Rest of the Story

Angus McDonald is lost. No, not lost; trapped.

He wakes up and doesn’t know where he is. It’s pretty dark, and his dark vision isn’t any better than his light vision. But eventually, his eyes begin to adjust. He sits up from the floor, oddly warm for flat stone, and sees shelves above his head overflowing with papers and files that he can’t read but that look very important and official. The bottom shelves hold standard office supplies. Angus is still wearing the clothes he put on that morning, and his satchel is within reach. He’s not been robbed, then, but kidnapping is definitely on the table.

What little light there is comes from underneath a door. Angus crawls across the floor and tries the knob- locked from the outside. He sighs, lays his head on his bag, and settles in to think.

He thinks he’s still in Goldcliff, knows he’s in a supply closet of some kind. He knows he’s been there for a while because he’s getting really hungry and has run out of fruit leather from his bag. 

The bottle of silverpoint is also gone. Something about that seems important. He knows that, somehow.

What he doesn’t know is whose office this is or how he got there or who locked him in. So, basically all the other important parts. 

He tries to retrace his steps through the holes in his memory. Something happened at the race, something bad. There was a blast of incredible power, battlewagons and people flying through the air. He remembers running, shouting for Blue-

Oh,  _ Blue.  _

Angus curls in on himself, tears pouring down his cheeks. He saw Blue get crushed by a wagon right in front of his eyes, and then- and then-

And then nothing. Someone must have gotten him out of the crowd and to this place, but who? What happened to the Raven? What happened to the Ram and her team? What happened to Goldcliff? What happened to  _ Angus? _

He sits up suddenly, heart and head pounding. He doesn’t know, and he thinks- maybe- that no one can. Because it’s all  _ static. “My memories,”  _ he whispers to himself. “So this is what it was like for you, Blue.”

He has only a second to absorb this realization, because at that moment the closet door shakes in its frame. A bright red light flashes on the other side of the door, and then it simply pops open.

Angus scrambles to his feet and grabs his bag. “Hello?” No answer. He cautiously pokes his head around the door and peers out, blinking quickly in the sudden light. There’s no one nearby, but he hears voices and footsteps coming from down the hall. Quietly, Angus tiptoes along the wall until he reaches the next door. Then he stands perfectly still and listens.

“Is it bad that I’m super glad we didn’t have to kill him?” a voice asks. “Even though this probably sucks  _ way  _ more than anything we’d do?”

Angus freezes, thinking they must be talking about him, but is only confused further when a second person with a slightly deeper voice answers, “Of course not, Carey. But he’s dead either way, and we’ve gotta take him back. No one down here will remember enough to bury him.”

His curiosity is going to be the death of him someday. Taking a risk, Angus holds his breath and peeks around the corner.

It’s an office, he can tell that much. There’s a desk and chairs as well as some filing cabinets. It’s small but neatly organized, although less so at the moment. Dead bodies will do that to a room, he supposes. A large man’s prone form lays on the floor, though it’s so mottled and black that it’s barely recognizable as human. Two figures search through the desk drawers, one orc and one dragonborn.

The phantom sensation of claws tearing through flesh tingles down his back and Angus swallows thickly.

The orc pulls two objects from the top desk drawer. Angus immediately recognizes the stolen bottle of silverpoint, but the book is an unfamiliar green journal with the seal of the Goldcliff militia stamped on the cover. “Hey, look at this,” she says to the dragonborn, waving the bottle. “Must be what he used to try and take out the-“

Metal flashes at her wrist, static pours from her mouth and Angus gasps loudly. Bad move.

The dragonborn- Carey- snaps her head towards him and crouches into a defensive stance. “We’ve got company, Killian!”

‘Killian’ looks up sharply but relaxes when she sees Angus. “Stand down, it’s just a kid.” She gives Angus a toothy smile and steps hurriedly in front of the man’s body. “Hey there, uh, little guy. There’s a  _ super  _ good explanation for this-“

“I know you didn’t kill him,” Angus says without preamble. “I don’t know who he is or who you are, but I know what those bracers are and I know what you’re doing. You and your group make people's memories go away so they don’t stop you from destroying the bad powerful things.”

Killian and Carey exchange a wary look before turning back to him. “How do you know all that?” Carey asks, bewildered. “Have you been-?”

Angus shakes his head before the static even clears. “I can’t understand that. I couldn’t understand it when the fake Leeman and his friends said it either, but I know you’re like them. I’ve been trying to find them, and the other people that disappeared.” 

“Fake Leeman?” Killian mutters to herself. Understanding flashes in her eyes and she groans and slaps a hand to her forehead. “Of course. You’re that detective from the train. I should have known those guys didn’t actually keep their cover locked down.”

“Told you Merle doctors his reports,” Carey says in a sing-song voice.

“It’s the  _ only  _ thing he doctors,” Killian grumbles. 

“Ain’t that the truth!”

They smile, completely wrapped up in one another. 

He clears his throat. “Ahem. Excuse me, but can we get back to the fact that there’s a dead man  _ right there?” _

They jump and give him sheepish glances. “Sorry,” Killian says. “I’m just not sure how to handle this, honestly. You’re obviously not after the- the bad things, so we have no reason to hurt you. But you also know way more than I think the- the  _ boss  _ would be okay with.”

“Thank you.”

Killian grimaces. “That wasn’t a compliment.” She gives Carey a helpless look, but the dragonborn just shrugs and jerks her head back toward Angus. Killian nods. “Alright kid, I think that you should come with us and have a little talk with our boss.”

Angus tightens his hand on the strap of his bag, looks between the two people in front of him, suddenly remembers all the people who have disappeared into the fog of the static. “Is this a kidnapping?” he asks softy. “Because I guess that’s fine, I’d just like to know first.”

Carey giggles and shakes her head. The ruff around her scaly neck flutters in excitement. “No,” she says kindly, extending her hand. “If anything, I’d bet it’s a job offer.”

Angus stares. A job offer from a secret organization? Now that’s a mystery he just can’t turn down. He steps forward and takes Carey’s hand. “Okay,” he says breathlessly. “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s it! Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this little ride. I’ll leave a few notes here just to tie up any loose ends:
> 
> Chapter titles: I named them in the convention of the 7 Birds. In order, you have Gundren and Barry, Angus, Kravitz, Arthur, Bane, and Yibyiru
> 
> Yibyiru? Yeah I don’t know anything about dnd lore but when I had the idea of bringing and extra layer to Bane’s betrayal, I figured it would have to do with poison. Google gave me that particular dnd demon lol
> 
> How does this affect the rest of the Real Story? It doesn’t really, not until everyone remembers via drinking Junior’s ichor. Like I’ve said in a few comments, I tried to keep things offscreen as similar as possible to canon. It was a fun puzzle trying to fit everything in the established timeline. 
> 
> Did Barry let Angus out at the end there? Yes he did. He might have to stay incognito for now, but he knew how much Ango wanted to get in on the mystery. 
> 
> And that’s it I guess! Trans rights!!


End file.
